


Chirstmas

by whoaswetha



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoaswetha/pseuds/whoaswetha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sherlock and Molly's first Christmas as a married couple. Sherlock's messed something up, big time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chirstmas

The December air was cold and chilly in London. Molly slid into her coat and grabbed her luggage. She was almost ready to leave. It was two days before Christmas and she was spending it at Aunt Laurie’s house, instead of beside her husband, who loathed Christmas, but nonetheless, she wasn’t spending it at home.

Sherlock and Molly had gotten into a row. Sherlock had accidentally melted her mother’s locket. It was the last remainder that Molly had of her.

She was furious. She could remember it now, with Sherlock’s completely clueless expression. She remembered how he had dismissed it as sentiment. And, never had it ever made her so angry.

So she planned on leaving. Molly needed a break anyways, this just gave her incentive. A little, tiny voice in the back of her mind told Molly that all that Molly was doing was running away. She ignored it. Sherlock had left in the middle of the night for a case or something. She was too angry to even speak to him.

Molly had scribbled a note to Sherlock and left it on their bed. She wondered how long it would take for him to even realize that she was gone. Molly had determinedly decided she didn’t care. She tossed her handbag in the passenger side, and drove away from 221B Baker Street.

* * *

 

John glanced warily at Sherlock. He had been happily asleep, in bed, with Mary until Sherlock had pounded on the door of their flat, jostling the couple up. Sherlock seemed on edge, and on the cab ride to the crime scene, he had placed yet another nicotine patch on his arm.

John knew it really wasn’t a good idea to pry, but after spending so much time with the world’s only consulting detective, you were bound to pick up a few things.

He looked tense, his eyes were far too alert, and there was something about the way he held himself that made John think something was wrong. When they showed up at the crime scene, Sherlock had pushed past people until he got to the crime scene, leaving John to apologise for his complacent behaviour. It was always up to John to apologise for Sherlock’s behaviour.

The murder had been brutal. He closed his eyes in a brief moment of respect. It had been a young pregnant woman with her throat savagely slashed. The sight of it made John feel morose. According to Sherlock she was a young woman who had flown in from France to celebrate the holidays. She was a shopgirl, back in France. She knew her killer, since there weren’t any defensive wounds. After that, Sherlock took his own samples and left the scene without another word, with John to follow.

He hailed a cab in the early morning light.

“St. Bart’s, please.” And they hopped in.

The carbide was deadly silent, and John found himself wondering if something happened between Sherlock and Molly. He kept alternating between looking at Sherlock and outside the window.

“What?” Sherlock asks, a twinge of annoyance clear in his voice.

“Is everything alright between you and Molly?”

“Why?”

“You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

He sighs deeply before nodding curtly.

“What did you do now?” John questions.

“Molly got angry with me for melting her mother’s locket.” He said in a clipped tone, suggesting he did not wish to discuss it.

“Jesus Christ, Sherlock why on earth would you do that?”

Sherlock turned away with a huff and said

“Experiment.”

John shakes his head before turning his attention back to the window.

A good fifteen minutes later, Sherlock threw himself into the work. Seeing that there was nothing to be done, John went home, in the vain hope to catch up on a few lost hours of sleep.

* * *

“Oh, dearie, how have you been?” Aunt Laurie was a robust woman who had a wonderfully loud voice. She was very protective of her family and she loved Molly to bits. Ever since Molly’s mother passed away, Aunt Laurie had taken on the role of raising Molly when Molly’s father was out and about. It had been Aunt Laurie that Molly had come crying to when her father died. And she smiles up at her aunt before hugging her.

“I’m so happy you’re spending Christmas with us.” She says after she leans back.

“It’s been forever since I saw any of you!” Molly exclaims. She smiles up at her aunt.

“Now, where is that handsome husband of yours?” she asks, and Molly’s smile disappeared.

Laurie frowned at her niece, but ushers her niece inside all the same.

“Never mind, we’ll talk later. Come in, it’s so chilly outside!”

Aunt Laurie wasn’t very fond of Sherlock, but then again, not many people were.

She smiled gratefully at her aunt before slipping inside. The house was nice and toasty, and Molly was grateful.

Aunt Laurie ushered her into the guest room, letting Molly in from the cold. Molly herself placed her bags down and changed into something more suitable after she hung up her coat and headed back into the living room.

Aunt Laurie had prepared a cuppa for the both of them, and Molly could certainly use it.

Molly gingerly picked up her cup and took a small sip. She smiled, remembering all those times Aunt Laurie had comforted her with her tea.

Aunt Laurie settles down, sitting across from her beloved niece.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” She asks.

Molly looks up and sighs.

“Sherlock went, and melted Mum’s locket.” She says simply.

The look on Aunt Laurie’s face is a mixture of anger and incredulity.

“That’s awful! Has he at least said sorry?”

“You know what he’s like. Of course he hasn’t.” she sighs deeply, wondering how on earth she could possibly get him to understand what that feels like.

“Molly, dear, if he’s making you unhappy-“

“No.” Molly already knew what Aunt Laurie was going to say. They have had this conversation again and again, and Molly wouldn’t hear it. Their relationship was different and difficult, but Molly was never one to give up. She never gave up on her father, and she was not going to give up on Sherlock either.

“Sweetie, you won’t even consider what I’m saying.” Aunt Laurie sighs and Molly glares at her.

“Aunt Laurie, I can’t. I won’t. I love him, and he loves me, why would we split up because of a few squabbles?”

“Well, if he loved you, he certainly has an odd way of showing it.” Aunt Laurie grumbles.

“He is an odd man.” Molly says defiantly.

Now she is beginning to question whether coming to Aunt Laurie’s house was even a good idea.

* * *

By the time Sherlock went home, it was late. The case was solved, and Sherlock did not feel that usual smugness that often overcame him after a case. Now that the case was done, he could truly allow himself to assess what happened. 

Molly had never been that angry at him before. He felt sorry for having hurt her. Why must he always do this? He sighs as he unlocks the door. Automatically, he sees that something is amiss. His eyes narrow as he glances about the flat before quickly moving to their bedroom.

There was a piece of folded paper lying on their neatly made up bed.

He picked it up, and in Molly’s scrawled handwriting it said

_Sherlock,_

_Went to my Aunt Laurie’s. Won’t be back for a few days._

_Love,_

_Molly._

She must have been angrier than he thought. He drops the note and drops his head into his hands. Sherlock fumbles for his phone and texts John.

_Come to Baker Street_

_SH_

John arrives a full hour later, his hair still wet. He finds Sherlock playing the violin.

“Does time mean nothing to you, Sherlock? Seriously, you drag me from my bed in the middle of the night, and now this?”

Sherlock sighs and points his bow toward the piece of paper on the couch. He had taken it with him from the room.

John narrows his eyes and picks it up and reads quickly.

His eyebrows shoot up and he glances at Sherlock.

“Oh, that’s bad.” He says.

“What should I do? You are definitely more romantically inclined than I am.”

“Go to her. Apologise.”

“Just like that? Is she really going to forgive me?”

“Sherlock, you messed up. Big time. Didn’t Molly’s mother die when she was a baby?”

“She died when Molly was three.”

John’s eyes widened.

“Sherlock…”

“Not good?”

“ _Definitely_ not good. Molly didn’t even know the woman!”

“Exactly. Why would she miss something of someone she never knew?”

John pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sherlock, the woman nursed Molly for a full nine months, and took care of her! It was her mother for crying out loud. Even you should understand that.”

Sherlock nods.

“Besides, Christmas is two days away, why don’t you try to make it up to her?”

“How?”

John smirked.

“I think I have an idea or two.”

* * *

Molly’s phone buzzed beside her pillow, causing her to jolt awake.

She sleepily checked the messages. What else could it be?

There were several, all from Sherlock.

_Come back._

_SH_

_I miss you._

_SH_

_The flat is too quiet without you_

_SH_

_Please, Molly._

_SH_

She knew that she was supposed to be angry, but it was difficult to be when he turned like this. He turned so desperate and lovable. She stifled a giggle and texted back

_I told you, I’d be back in a few days. Might even spend Christmas here. Wouldn’t you like that?_

She was sure that Sherlock was scowling, back in London. That thought made her smile all the more.

Barely a minute later, her phone buzzed again.

_No Molly, I would not like that at all. I want you here._

_SH_

Molly grinned devilishly.

She loved having any sense of power over him, considering how he always exploited her and her weaknesses. Of course, she had become good at saying no, but it was still satisfactory.

_But Sherlock, you hate Christmas._

Within seconds there was a reply.

_I am told that you are supposed to spend Christmas with people you care about. There is no one I would much rather spend this horrid holiday with other than you._

_SH_

Molly felt moved by what he said. He rarely expressed his feelings for her verbally, and when he did, she would treasure the memory. Just as she will treasure this. She smiles.

_I’ll think about it. But for now, good night, Sherlock._

Sherlock groaned audibly. He stared at his most recent text from Molly.

He wanted her back, plans be damned. _Aunt Laurie,_ be damned. He never really enjoyed the presence of Molly’s favourite aunt, but then again, he never really enjoyed the presence of people in general. He was well informed that the feelings were mutual.

John said it might be better to wait until Molly calmed down.

John also said to wait until his plans were officially in place.

Sherlock didn’t have any patience for that.

He grabbed his coat and decided, plans be damned, he was going to see her.

* * *

When Molly woke up, the house was loud and noisy. She heard the squeal of a baby and she knew it was her cousin, Kevin. Aunt Laurie’s actual son. She grinned before donning a robe and darting out of the guest room.

“Molly!” Kevin cried.

He was a handsome man a scant two years older than Molly. Kevin and Molly had always been close, and when Kevin got married, she was close with his wife as well.

She hugs him and asks where Lucy was.

“Right here!” says a chirpy voice behind her. Molly turns around and grins before hugging Lucy.

“How’s Madison?” Molly inquired politely.

“Oh she’s fine. She was so excited to see her Grandma though.”

She smiles.

Aunt Laurie comes out with Madison, Kevin’s daughter.

Molly hadn’t seen Madison since her own wedding and that was a scant five months ago.

“Oh my, look at how you’ve grown!” Molly says as she reaches out for her. Madison comes easily. She’s always excellent with new faces and people, a trait Molly was happy with. She rarely got to see her own family.

Madison coos and puts her hand in Molly’s hair. With a swift yank, she pulls Molly’s head to the side.

“Oh no. I was worried that might happen.” Lucy worked Madison’s little hand out of Molly’s hair.

“Anyways, Molly, why aren’t you in London? Is Sherlock here too?” She asks.

Molly shakes her head.

Lucy’s eyebrows furrow and the couple exchange nervous and worried glances.

“Sherlock just doesn’t really like Christmas.” Molly lied. She didn’t really want to have them worry and tell her to give up. That’s all anyone would do.

“Molly, it’s your first Christmas with him. You should celebrate it together.” Kevin says.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Says a clipped baritone voice.

Molly nearly drops Madison as she turns around.

“Sherlock!” she says. Lucy quickly takes her baby from her.

“Molly.” He smiles at her.

And then Molly remembers why she was here at Aunt Laurie’s in the first place.

She crosses her arms and stands up straighter. It strengthens her resolve. She says,

“What are you doing here?”

“Make a deduction Molly, what do you think I’m doing here?”

“I’m not the consulting detective, you are. So you tell me.”

She is vaguely aware of Aunt Laurie and Lucy and Kevin moving away from them.

He sighs. “Fair enough. I’m here because I want you in London, not here, where I can’t even talk to you properly. This is our first Christmas and I’m told that we should spend it together, despite what happened a few days ago. Please, Molly. Come home.”

She knows she can’t resist him. So Molly creeps up to him and gets on her tip-toes before kissing him soundly.

But she steps back and says

“I didn’t hear an apology.”

He looks affronted. Sherlock rarely apologises for anything in his life.

“I’m…sorry.” The words sound choked and insincere. She narrows her eyes and glares at him.

“That’s really the best you can do? You melted my mother’s locket, Sherlock!”

“I am though. Please, just come home.”

She sighs. Lucy is right, you should spend Christmas with someone you love.

She did love her family, but that was besides the point. She kisses him again and he complies, eagerly, but she steps back.

“Fine. I’ll come home.”

* * *

_Christmas Morning_

The early morning light shown through their window and Molly stretched gingerly. Her hand touched the headboard and she grinned. The anticipation of Christmas always excited her, even as a child. She turned around in her bed and saw Sherlock lying there languidly. She had persuaded him into sleeping last night.  

“Morning.” She said sleepily, scooching up to him until he placed an arm around her. She leans over and kisses him.

“Merry Christmas.” He answers.

She grins and rolls out of bed.

“Where are you going?” he asks

She laughs and says

“It’s Christmas, where else would I go? Presents!”

He groans and gets up after her.

Molly had bought a small Christmas tree for a corner of their flat. She had been so adamant about Christmas decorations, it made him sick. He never enjoyed Christmas. It was too tedious, too dull, and too predictable. The Christmas dinners were always the worst.

But this wasn’t the Holmes estate. This was his flat, and his wife. She was guaranteed to make Christmas special. Molly hadn’t really celebrated since her father passed away.

Sherlock detested celebrating.

He found Molly crouched next to her small tree. She was opening the present Aunt Laurie had given her before she left. It was another sweater. Not that Molly minded. She put it down before turning to Sherlock.

“Don’t you want your presents?”

“Molly, I doubt anyone got me anything.”

“That’s not true. Look, there’s a present from Greg, and one from John, and…and one from me.” She smiled, as she handed him Greg’s present. He turned it over in his hand and rolled his eyes.

“A dress shirt.”

“Open it Sherlock! It’s the least you can do!” She said.

He rolled his eyes, before opening it. It was a plain grey dress shirt.

“There. Your turn.”

John and Mary had given her a gift certificate to one of her favourite restaurants. Molly smiled. It was definitely a nice gift.

Her cousins had given her a fancy bottle of wine and a CD of her favourite band.

“Well that’s it for me.” She says.

She hadn’t expected Sherlock to get her anything.

She turns to him.

“Your turn.”

“Who said that your gifts were over? You didn’t even open mine.”

Her eyes widened.

“I thought you hated Christmas.”

“So? That doesn’t mean I’m not going to get you anything.”

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He smiled against her lips.

“Mrs. Holmes, I think this is for you.” He reaches behind him and pulls out a long rectangular box.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

She smiles.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Okay, yeah, you did.”

He smirks at her. She grabs the box and tears off the wrapping paper and box.

“Jewelry?”

“Just open it.”

And she does. She flips the box open and presses a hand to her mouth.

“Oh my god. It’s…it’s her locket.”

“Of course it isn’t. I wasn’t lying when I said-“

“I know you weren’t. But you-you had it remade?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

She looks up at him. He is surprised to see tears in her eyes.

“You’re crying.” He murmurs.

“Tears of joy, Sherlock.” She says and she leans in and kisses him.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Molly.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
